


Wake Up Call

by KivaEmber



Series: Persona 5 Oneshots [11]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Implied Relationships, M/M, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: “Think you’re on my phone,” Akira said past a yawn, and Goro felt his fingers try to wriggle underneath him.“Good, hope I crush it,” Goro mumbled, stealing Akira’s pillow and pressing his face into it, doing nothing to help.or;Akira and Akechi are roommates. That's it, really.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Persona 5 Oneshots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101845
Comments: 12
Kudos: 436





	Wake Up Call

Goro was out of bed the exact moment the alarm trilled. 

He lumbered like a zombie out of his bedroom, his eyes still firmly shut as he caught his shoulder on the doorframe and went half-staggering across the hall and into Akira’s room. Having walked this path a thousand times before in various states of consciousness, Goro navigated Akira’s death trap of a room towards his bed and slapped the first thing his hand touched. 

Akira grunted, mumbling something against his palm. Wrong target. 

“ _ Nnngnrmph _ ,” Goro complained intelligibly, randomly smacking the space around Akira’s stupid head until his hand found his shitty phone, still cheerfully belting out the most obnoxious trilling alarm known to man. With the frantic fumblings of a cat trying to claw its way into a bag of forbidden treats, Goro blindly turned off the alarm and then crawled into Akira’s bed. 

He dropped back to sleep the moment his head touched whatever flat surface it reached (the mattress), ignoring the odd contortion of his body draped over Akira’s and his legs half-dangling off the bed. 

Ten minutes later, the alarm went off again. Goro’s hand smacked it with a precision strike that didn’t require any higher thought. He didn’t even wake up. 

Six alarms later, Akira finally roused from his coma.

“Ugh, Goro, ge’off…” Akira’s voice, scratchy from sleep, filtered through Goro’s brain and registered as ‘not alarm noise: awaken’. Akira was also moving and not-too gently shoving him off his weirdly comfortable though bad for his back position on top of him, so Goro had no choice but to wake up, grunt, and curl up in the space between Akira and the wall, the phone trapped under him somewhere. 

It was digging into his ribs, quite painfully, but feeling Akira pat about the bed and grumble irritably convinced him to stay in place and say nothing. Served him right. 

“Think you’re on my phone,” Akira said past a yawn, and Goro felt his fingers try to wriggle underneath him.

“Good, hope I crush it,” Goro mumbled, stealing Akira’s pillow and pressing his face into it, doing nothing to help. Akira’s fingers just about closed on the edge of his phone and started the difficult task of teasing it out from beneath Goro’s torso.

“Goro, c’mon. Move your ass,” Akira shoved at his shoulder while he pulled at his phone, and just as it began its seventh alarm, it was freed from its prison and Goro went back to sleep. 

He woke up naturally however many hours later, sprawled haphazardly on his back with Akira’s blankets tangled around his legs and Akira’s pillow resting in the crook of his neck, cheek pressed against it and eyes itchy from sleep. He vaguely remembered his journey here, and after living with Akira for over six months, was so used to migrating to his bed at five in the morning that it didn’t even surprise him anymore. 

_ we should just sleep together, _ he thought groggily, his thoughts unguarded in those moments between sleep and full consciousness. 

Goro would’ve stayed like that indefinitely, but his bladder demanded otherwise and his stomach added to the protests, so with a heavy sigh he rolled out of Akira’s bed and clumsily onto his hands and knees. 

Six months ago, such behaviour would never have crossed his mind. Six months ago, he hadn’t lived with Akira and endured the relentless psychological warfare that was two hours worth of alarms starting from five in the morning. Now Goro did what he could to survive, and if that survival meant he woke up in his roommate’s bed on a daily basis, then he honestly wasn’t complaining. 

“Coffee,” he told himself, and it was that word that willed him to his feet and towards their shared bathroom. 

* * *

Thirty minutes later Goro was fit for human interaction. 

Akira was up, obviously, and like the wonderful roommate that he was, had prepped for his revival with a pot of coffee and cooked omelette. If Goro were a weaker man, he might have proposed to this fool within the first four months of living with him. 

“It’s cheese and ham,” Akira said helpfully as Goro descended upon his breakfast like he hadn’t eaten in five years. 

“Mngh,” Goro said. 

Akira gave him a pleased smile - he enjoyed it when Goro ravenously showed his approval of his cooking - and sat across from him at the breakfast bar. Their apartment wasn’t anything fancy; two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and everything else condensed as much as possible into one room, so sitting at the breakfast bar also allowed Goro to watch the television set up in their living room with a minimal turning of his head, allowing maximum viewing pleasure while eating ham and cheese omelette. 

Really, maybe he  _ should _ marry this man. 

The television was showing the news - typical, as being a journalist, Akira liked to stay on top of whatever the media were bleating about now and then. Unpleasantly, Shido’s face was on the screen, another segment on the downfall of Shido after his corruption was exposed for all of Japan to point and gossip over. 

It was messy, the fallout. Goro was clipped by it via association, a worthy sacrifice considering he was the one who helped lay the path for Shido’s messy (political) demise. If it weren’t for a certain, handsome journalist who was too nosy for his own good… 

“Want me to change the channel?” Akira said, giving him a neutral look. There was no pity in his gaze, despite knowing everything Shido had done to him and how thoroughly messed up Goro was because of it. For that, Goro decided that tomorrow morning he will endeavour not to smack him in the face.

“It’s fine. He’s worth nothing now,” Goro said with feigned casualness, shoving the last of his omelette into his mouth.

“True,” Akira gave him a tiny smile, and Goro hated how it made African moon moths spawn in his belly. That wasn’t medically healthy, “You got any plans today?”

Goro checked his mental calender on automatic, then realised that with Shido’s political demise he wasn’t forced to dance to his demented, action packed tune, and found that he actually had an overabundance of free time tentatively penciled in for ‘brooding over the tattered remains of the life he hated’.

“I can make some time for you,” he said.

“Great, because I was thinking we could go fishing together.”

On second thought; “Actually, I’m too busy.” 

Akira gave him a guileless look, “Oh, really? Are you still sore over not catching anything last time?”

This fucking piece of shit- 

“I am  _ not _ sore,” Goro growled, levelling a very threatening fork at Akira’s face, “ _ You _ caught barely anything either, if you recall.”

“But I caught  _ something, _ ” Akira said with obnoxious smugness. 

Goro rescinded his earlier thought. He was slapping the shit out of him tomorrow morning. 

“That’s it,” he said, dropping his fork onto his empty plate and rising to his feet, “Let’s go.  _ Now. _ ”

“You’re still in your pyjamas.”

So he was. 

“...ten minutes,” Goro amended, and after giving Akira’s smug face a  _ ‘you better watch out, asshole’ _ glare, sulked to his bedroom to pull on some clothes he didn’t mind getting fish smell and stagnant water all over. 

(The clothes were, obviously, Akira’s. None of his clothes deserved to smell of fish)

Ten minutes later, and he met Akira at the door, ignoring the amused look his roommate gave him for blatantly stealing his clothes. The day was overcast and slightly chilly, so Goro liberated Akira’s stupid ‘ _ CAT DAD’ _ hoodie and his dark jeans that were, in retrospect, a little tight on him, but it was too late to go back and change so Goro just had to fucking deal with it, he guessed. 

“You good?” Akira asked, pointedly staring at said jeans. 

“Yes,” Goro said stoically, ignoring how the jeans were slowly cutting off the blood supply to his legs. 

Akira gave him a very long look. 

“Please don’t rip those the moment you sit down,” Akira said as he opened the door. 

“Rip-  _ excuse me? _ Are you implying something there?”

“Not a thing~”

“ _ Kurusu- _ ”

The bastard leaned in and pecked him on the cheek, transforming Goro’s blistering response into a strangled, peeping noise better suited for a lost chick. He could feel the rush of heat flooding to his cheeks, a mingle of anger and some squishy, fuzzy feeling that made him feel hypoglycaemic as Akira gave him a very pleased smile, a faint dusting of pink on his own cheeks. 

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” Akira said shamelessly, fidgeting with his stupid hair, dopey grin in place, before he powerwalked down the corridor. Goro gaped after him, until his brain kickstarted into the only emotion it knew how to effectively process: anger.

“Y-You-  _ you _ -!” Goro’s voice reached a pitch previously unknown to himself, taking him an embarrassing long moment to wrangle with his vocal chords long enough to bellow: 

“ _ Kurusu!! _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> you can blame twitter for this hhffhfgdg


End file.
